At length the mills loosed, and Foster hurried home, and, after a hasty tea, told his wife that an engagement would take him from home for a few hours, and that she must not be alarmed if he was a little late. Then, having put on a stout overcoat, he made his way through the higher part of the town, and past the vicarage, and was soon in the open country. It was past seven o’clock when he reached the place where the footpath leading to the old Hall met the highroad. It was still raining, though not heavily; but thick, leaden-coloured clouds brooded over the whole scene, and served to deepen the approaching darkness. It was certainly an evening not calculated to raise any one’s spirits; and the harsh wind, as it swept over the wide expanse of the treeless fields, with their stern-looking stone fences, added to the depressing influences of the hour. But Foster was a man not easily daunted by such things, and he had stridden on manfully, fully occupied by his own thoughts, till he reached the stile where the footpath to the ruins began. Here he paused, looked carefully in all directions, listened attentively without hearing sound of traveller or vehicle, and then whistled in a low tone twice. A tall figure immediately rose up from the other side of the hedge and joined him.
“Well, Levi,” said Foster, “I have kept my appointment; and now what would you have with me?”
“I’ll tell you, William,” replied his companion. “You know I’m a marked man. The police are looking out for me on account of that housebreaking job - more’s the pity I ever had anything to do with it. However, I’m a changed man now, I hope: I think I’ve given you some proof of that already, William, so you may trust me. A man wouldn’t come back and thrust his head into the lion’s mouth as I’ve done, to show his sincerity and sorrow for the past, if he hadn’t been in earnest. Now, what I want you to do is this:—You know how many Sunday afternoons you and I, and others of our old mates, have spent in card-playing in the cellar of that old Hall—the Lord forgive me for having wasted his holy day in such sin and folly! Now, I’ve a long story to tell, and I should like to tell it in that same place where you and I joined in what was sinful in our days of ignorance and darkness. I can tell you there how I was brought to see what a fool’s part I had been playing, and how I came to my right mind at last. You can give me some good advice; and I want to leave one or two little things with you to give or send to my poor old mother when I’m far away. And when we’ve had our talk out, we’ll part at the old ruin, and I shall make the best of my way out of the country, and begin a new and better life, I trust, where I’m not known. I’m sorry to have given you the trouble to come out all this way, specially on such a night as this; but I really don’t feel safe anywhere in or near Crossbourne, as the police might pop on me at any moment, and I felt sure, from what I heard of the change that has taken place in you, that you wouldn’t mind a little trouble to help an old companion out of the mire. You needn’t be afraid to come with me; I can have no possible motive to lead you into danger.”
“I’m not afraid, Levi,” said Foster quietly. “I’m ready to go with you.”
Nothing more was said by either of them till they had followed out the footpath and stood before the gateway of the old Hall. They were soon making their way cautiously amongst the fallen blocks of stone towards a turret which rose to a considerable height at the end of the ruins farthest from the gateway. “Go forward, William,” said Sharples, “while I light my lantern.” So saying, he paused to strike a match, while his companion threaded his way towards the turret. At this moment a figure, unobserved by Foster, emerged from behind a low wall, and, having exchanged a few whispered words with Levi, disappeared through an archway.
The two companions, having now gained the turret, proceeded to descend a few broken steps concealed from ordinary observation by a mass of brushwood, and reached the entrance of a spacious vault. “Stay a moment,” said Sharples; “I’ll go first and show a light.” So saying, he pushed past the other, and the next instant Foster felt himself held fast by each arm, while a handkerchief was pressed over his mouth. He was at once painfully conscious that he had been completely entrapped, and that resistance was perfectly useless, for two strong men grasped him, one on either side. But his presence of mind did not desert him, and he now had learnt where to look, in secret prayer, for that “very present help in trouble” which never fails those who seek it aright. Thus fortified, he attempted no resistance, but patiently awaited the event.
In a few minutes the handkerchief was withdrawn from his eyes, and he found himself in the presence of about a dozen men, all of whose faces were blackened. On a large stone in the centre of the vault was placed the bull’s-eye lantern which his companion had recently lighted, and which, by pouring its light fully on himself, prevented him from clearly seeing the movements of his captors. What was to come next? He was not long left in doubt.
“Saint Foster,” said Levi Sharples, who stood just behind the lantern, and spoke in a sneering, snuffling voice, “we don’t wish you any harm; but we have brought your saintship before our right worshipful court, that you may answer to the charge brought against you, of having deserted your old principles and companions, and inflicted much inconvenience and discredit on the cause of free-thought and good fellowship in Crossbourne. What say you to this charge, Saint Foster?”
Their poor victim had by this time thoroughly recovered his self-possession, and being now set at liberty—for his enemies knew that he could not escape them—answered quietly, and in a clear, unfaltering voice, “I must ask first by what authority this court is constituted; and by whose authority you are now questioning me?”
“By the authority of ‘might,’ which on the present occasion makes ‘right,’ Saint Foster,” was the reply.